


We Shadow Box And Double Cross

by brunahier



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Femdom, Longing, Obsession, Pining, Staring, Worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunahier/pseuds/brunahier
Summary: This is an incomplete work that was supposed to be the sequel to "Hinterland Of My Devotion". This has been sitting in my drafts for over 3 years. I miss writing these two but I have no idea if I will ever finish. Sorry :(
Relationships: Sasha Banks/Finn Balor
Kudos: 1





	We Shadow Box And Double Cross

**Author's Note:**

> This is set right after the Sasha/Bayley Iron Man match from October 2015. Specifically, inspired by this moment when Sasha got flowers. <https://imgur.com/PQ5nLTR>

They hadn't seen each other in so long. Sasha had blossomed into the star everyone knew she was bound to be. She was now informally on the main roster, and traveling on the road full time. She was only in Orlando a few days a week now, and despite his best efforts, she just couldn't find the time for him. 

Their next encounter was in the midst of it all. The beginning of all these changes. Finn as champion, Sasha as show stealer and then bona fide Diva. The world swirled around them, drifting into the unknown, a future as it took shape into something more rigid and real, but their strange connection and violent power games were buried deep underneath, lurking oozing constant. 

He watched the Iron Woman match from backstage, surrounded by others just as engaged, but lost in himself. Nervous and quiet, enraptured by her theatrics, her nuance. Every gesture was a sentence, absolute poetry rife with rich subtext and subtlety. Sasha could convey it all like no other in just a rest hold.

Afterward, the whole roster came out for the curtain call. Finn found himself pushed to the front, the face of NXT, but his transfixed gaze now unobscurable.

He stood a few feet behind her and to the side, in calm awe, as she cried in front of hundreds clutching her enormous bouquet of flowers from Triple H. This softness of hers was so jarring only in its unfamiliarity, not in and of itself. All this emotion and tenderness was the obverse of her brutality, but it was the same lack of fear. Unafraid to approach, to see, to tell the world who she was in any moment. The whole range of human emotion took root deep in her. The full panorama of femininity was alive and well in Sasha Banks. Terror and bruised muscle bearing an armful of chrysanthemums.

As he looked on, he wanted her more than ever, trying to steel himself since he was still on camera. Longed and ached to see who she would be when they met up afterwards, if they even met up afterwards, if she would allow such a thing. 

He had been working the angles for weeks, desperate to get close to her again, to know her fully. He wanted more than anything to be allowed into this new life of hers, even if just as a peripheral player and occasional distraction (stress relief). He wanted to comfort her, be some kind of partner or even guide, but he knew it wasn't that kind of thing between them. He would have to settle for being destroyed by her.

Sasha brought it out in him like no other, and she was the only one who could then subdue it. He had deep admiration for her, but still a lingering sense of curiosity, and even fainter terror mixed with awe. So many nights spent alone, masturbating to the thought of her, rubbing his skin nearly raw desperate for her touch and the kind of release only she could give, her haughty control and mesmerizing contortions.

The cameras went off, and Sasha was led to the back through the throng by Triple H and Stephanie. She was still teary, head down trying to obscure it. His eyes were glued on her as she passed by, and just as their bodies were briefly parallel she drew her fingers across him, almost grabbing, but low enough that no one else could see the contact, obscured as it was by other bodies in the crowd. 

Everything around him immediately dissolved into a blur of grey, and all he could feel was the lingering remainder of her thin fingers. It almost felt imagined, another fantasy of his so urgent and aggressive that it had become real just through sheer force of will. His mind was racing, sheer panic as he watched her walk away, enveloped again by the crowd, whisked away to a much more interesting reality. He wanted to follow her, chase after her, just get her to see him for more than a brief moment. To notice him, to really see, and then maybe she would remember what it was like between them. 

And then, just as she was about to move beyond his line of sight and out the door, gone again into the distance, she turned her head back briefly and locked eyes with him. She stared right through him, that same smoldering intense glare as always. Just the memory of that glare could sustain him for weeks, months if need be.


End file.
